


A watched pot never boils.

by graphiteeyes



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Angst, Desire, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Modern Era, Porn With Plot, im a sucker for fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:29:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22407967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graphiteeyes/pseuds/graphiteeyes
Summary: "You really have nothing to worry about." Except for the fact that she was about to be locked in a room with her lifelong bodyguard and best friend who sometimes made her heart beat a little too quick for comfort for sixty entire minutes for a game that was culturally renowned at parties to incite all kinds of debauchery. /Modern AU
Relationships: Son Hak/Yona
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	1. A watched pot never boils

It was awful. Horrendous.  
The worst situation she’d ever been put in--including the time she purposefully let herself be kidnapped to take down human traffickers AND watching her father die as her cousin usurped the throne.  
Yona had never had the best self-preservation habits but now, as she watched Hak disappear into the dark room at the end of the hall, she almost wished one of the former attempts on her life had been successful.  
Almost.  
She was still shaking her head vigorously as Jaeha led her forward. “No, you can’t make me do this. I don’t want to do this.”  
“It’s sixty minutes, Yona,” Jaeha reassured her, devious grin plastered across his face. Yona could still hear the whooping and hollering from the party-goers in the living room, shouting their excitement and what she hoped were satirically inappropriate comments. “Besides, no one will be watching and the door will be locked. You really have nothing to worry about.”  
Except the fact that she was about to be locked in a room with her lifelong bodyguard and best friend who sometimes made her heart beat a little too quick for comfort for sixty entire minutes for a game that was culturally renowned at parties for inciting all kinds of debauchery.  
As they got closer to the door, Yona could see the outline of Hak as he sat, straight-backed on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, the figure of his muscles clear even from thirty feet away.  
She was really starting to regret college abroad.  
“Are you sure I can’t just re-spin? Maybe it’ll land on Yoon and he can spend the time telling me about what he’s learning in his virology class,” Yona tried, but only succeeded in making Jaeha laugh.  
“Really, Yona,” he sighed. “If you’re not looking to do anything nefarious, you don’t have to. It’s just a game. I know there’s pretty much always people around you two these days with your roommates, so it’ll be really nice to have some alone time.”  
He paused in front of the door, letting Yona ruminate on the hope of an innocently spent sixty minutes without her campus friends thinking anything happened. She couldn’t believe how many people at school asked if they were dating, reading into every glance they exchanged, every tone she laughed at his jokes with. Americans seemed to be rather enamored by the princess and her broody guard.  
All she wanted to do was make it through the next sixty minutes and not be asked a single question.  
Jaeha was whispering as they got to the door, “It’ll do you some good to be alone now that we’re out of Kouka and you’re out of danger. And anyway, a watched pot never boils.”  
Yona gasped, spinning abruptly on her heel as he pushed her into the room. “Did you plan this?” she asked as loudly as she dared, not wanting to be heard over the roar of the music.  
Jaeha just winked, pulling the door shut, and turning the lock. If she had any consolation prize, it was the darkness of the room without the hallway light shining in, shrouding her blush as she turned slowly towards her companion.  
“They’re really locking us in here for an hour?” Hak asked, making himself at home, stretching out across the bed, the pale of his stomach poking out where his shirt rode up an aggravatingly strong distraction as Yona searched for something to occupy herself with. But Hak was laying across the bed, arms stretched above his head, watching her search for a lightswitch.  
“Unbelievable,” she exclaimed, “They taped the switches off.”  
“Of course they did,” Hak said with his usual air of indifference. “It would ruin this all-too alluring mood lighting if we could just easily flip them on.”  
She couldn’t make out the expression on his face, but she heard him pat the mattress next to him. “You might as well sit down, princess. We’re gonna be here a while.”  
Jaeha’s words were still bouncing around in her head, raising a chill on her arms. Or maybe that was the air conditioning that was a staple of North American culture she was still growing accustomed to.  
Yona hesitated, pausing at the foot of the bed, hoping her eyes would adjust to the lighting and she’d find a chair to perch herself in far far away from Hak.  
But he was magnetic, a calm, steadfast gravity pulling her towards him. His feet hung off the end of the mattress, pressing lightly against her thigh as she stood, feeling her pulse jump as she weighed the consequences of lying down next to him.  
Her eyes trailed across his body, from his pale socks past black skinny jeans, to the dark, dark hair brushing over his forehead. She could finally see the line of his lips and her gaze rested there, transfixed.  
“I think I’m done exploring American culture. We can go back to Kouka now,” she said flatly, moving quickly towards the door. “I’ll just let Kye-Sook kill me.”  
Hak didn’t move to stop her, didn’t even seem to look in her direction as her fingers grazed the handle and tried to turn it. “Giving up on the challenge already? That’s boring.”  
“You’re so obnoxious,” Yona huffed. “If I wanted to sit in a dark room alone with you, I could do that any other night of the year.”  
She didn’t, of course, mention that it wouldn’t be entirely alone, as his school-assigned roommate never seemed to leave the dorm. Sometimes she wondered if he even took classes. Though, Yona’s roommate seemed to spend a lot of time sleeping at her boyfriend’s house off-campus, so her dorm room may have been a good option--  
Except that she was putting too much thought into hanging out in the dark with Hak. The concept of having a sleepover with him for the first time since leaving Kouka made her face heat up, toes curl, shoulders go stiff.  
“Stop standing so stiffly and sit down, you look like a mannequin. You’re gonna get frown lines.”  
“Hey,” she snapped, spinning around storming towards him, hands balled into indignant fists, “You can’t even see me. How do you know I’m frowning--”  
Yona’s foot caught on something on the floor and she stumbled a few steps before falling face-first onto the mattress, or, rather the figure lying on the mattress. Pain shot through her foot. Whatever she knocked had jammed a couple of her toes and she let out a string of every swear she’d learned in English before she felt Hak’s arms around her, chin knocking her nose.  
“If you’re going to throw yourself at me, the least you can do is not call me such awful names,” Hak teased.  
His breath stirred her hair, lips brushing ever so lightly against her cheek from the position. Hak’s arms were strong, holding her from falling off the side of the bed onto the floor and her leg was slung over his hip bones as she struggled to keep from sliding off as well. It would have been easy to tilt her head up, press her lips to his. The thought alone elicited more of a reaction from her body than she expected, a strong coil snapping low in her stomach, thoughts foggy.  
“I did not throw myself at you!” her resolve was weak, though, mind distracted by the realization that one of his hands holding her up was half cupping her ass and the more she wiggled, the stronger he had to hold onto her.  
She finally got a foothold and righted herself, pushing herself up to sit perched atop his hips, pressing her finger into his chest as she explained, “I tripped and fell and you’re teasing me, you big jerk!”  
His hands were still on her sides, trying desperately to hold her squirming hips still as she continued to argue about how big of a dick he was being to her. “Please stop moving, princess.”  
“I didn’t even want to play this game. Jaeha told me I had to and you just went along with it happily,” she thumped his shoulder indignantly.  
“Princess, please.”  
“You’re so crude! You’ve been teasing me since--”  
“Are you trying to turn me on, princess, or are you really that oblivious?” Hak’s voice was breathier than she’d previously noticed, eyebrows pulled down, grip on her hips pulling her up, off of him.  
She stopped, suddenly, hyper-aware of the feeling of him beneath her--of the subtle rough edge his breathing took on, of what she had previously assumed to be one of his hip bones pressing against her, but she now was all too aware was in exactly the wrong place. Her anger was gone just ask quickly as it had arrived, settling into something that she knew may be worse.  
Curiosity.  
“You, um, well, you liked that?” she asked, voice low.  
He was quiet, paying an awful lot of attention to the wall across the room and avoiding the question, arms folded tightly across his chest. But she was Yona and he was Hak and she had been more and more interested in the things he enjoyed, his reactions to her since she fled the castle. Ever since they had moved continents, away from the arrows of the Sky Tribe, she found herself caught even further in fascination.  
Hak was steadfast, calm, level-headed. He had so much self-control and Yona wondered when he would crack. What it would take.  
So when he didn’t answer, Yona pressed her palms to his stomach for leverage and slowly dragged her hips across his.  
“Princess--” the word was a gasp, light as air, and Hak’s hands were gripping her again in a moment. “What are you doing?”  
“Oblivious,” she told him. “There, I answered your question so now it’s your turn to answer mine.”  
“What question?” he feigned innocence.  
When she ground against him again, Hak swore, the choice word bubbling out of him. “I asked if you liked that,” she repeated.  
She was supposed to be more innocent than this. Yona was raised in a palace, sheltered from violence, hatred, and anything remotely sexual in nature. She was supposed to be chaste and pure and too noble to satiate the need that pooled between her legs when her fingers grazed the exposed skin of his stomach.  
“Fuck, princess,” Hak choked, hands jumping up to the hem of her skirt, fingers threatening to push it up before he restrained himself.  
“That wasn’t an answer, you big bully,” she chided, rubbing herself against him more for her own benefit this time. “Do. You. Like. This?”  
“There is nothing about you dry humping me and using that tone that can be mistaken for oblivious,” Hak argued, fingers digging into her thighs.  
She bent down, pressing her hands to his shoulders, repeating the grind again. “There is if you won’t answer my question,” she told him, fighting to keep the heat out of her voice. She’d never felt this powerful before, feeling the shudder that ran through him as she pinned his shoulders, acutely aware of the way he sighed as she whispered his name.  
“Do you like this?” he shot back, voice cracking as her lips brushed against his ear, breath warm.  
“You must like this,” she murmured against his ear and before he could protest, she went on, “If you don’t, then why are you moaning?”  
The sound was panicked from his throat, low, almost a growl as she ground against him. She could feel him heating up, simmering under her touch.  
Jaeha was right. A watched pot never boils and it took Yona stubbing two toes and quite literally falling on Hak for her to figure out how to get him hot. And now she didn’t want to stop, heart pounding in her chest, getting herself off against his hardness, the bruising pressure of his hands on her thighs.  
“I thought you said you weren’t throwing yourself at me,” he made a final attempt to argue with her, fingers trailing up her legs, lightly pushing the hem of her skirt up.  
“Hak,” she settled one of her thighs between his legs, cursing how tall he was in how much she had to strain her neck to keep her lips so close to his ear, but settled for gently dragging her lower lip up his neck instead. “Just answer the question.”  
And he was rolling, flipping her onto her back, reveling in the silky skin of her thighs against his fingers, dipping his own lips to meet her neck. “Yes,” he gasped. “I like this a lot.”


	2. You're going to need to be more specific.

Hak didn’t know who kissed who first.   
It was probably him, he decided. Every word out of her lips was daring, curious. He hadn’t been able to think with her on top of him, the drag of her hips on his left him delirious, brain melting from the heat.   
Her eyes on him were inquisitive. Hak was a puzzle for her to solve, unanswered questions. Yona couldn’t let mysteries remain unsolved. She had to know how he worked, what made him tick. Hak couldn’t believe she didn’t know it was her, only her, always her. Her hands pushing and prodding, her eyes as full of fire as her hair, her wit, her snark, her compassion.  
And with all of it directed at him, her hands pressing her shoulders to the mattress, knees buried in the comforter on either side of his hipbones, lips brushing his neck as she spoke, Hak  
s h a t t e r e d  
Suddenly he was on top of her, hands venturing where a good body guard’s never should, lips trailing where a best friend’s rarely do, blood roaring in his ears. Every ounce of composure gone with her cardigan, pushed off her shoulders, stripped away by eager hands. Her thighs wrapped around him, fingertips grazing the skin of his biceps just under the line of his tshirt.   
She sighed against his lips, hips rolling to grind against him. Hak’s heart pounded in his chest, lips claiming hers. She was so, so soft, yielding, content.  
When he kissed her neck, she let out a gasp, the sound hollowing out his chest and her moan as he sucked on her collar bone filling the gap.   
He didn't care how many cliches this fulfilled. How many of their classmate's fanfiction tropes this satisfied.   
Yona was tugging on his palms, directing his hands to where she wanted them, kissing him with bruising pressure. She was clumsy, fumbling when he licked her lip, bumping her nose awkwardly against his, fingers getting knotted in all the wrong ways in his hair. But Hak was steaming, panting against her, thumbs hooked in the waistband of her skirt.   
She pushed on his shoulder and he yielded to her touch, rolling onto his back, letting her crawl back onto his hips. Yona could do whatever she wanted to him. He was her shield, her rock, an instrument enthusiastically given for her enjoyment.  
“Hak,” she murmured, pressing her palms under the hem of his shirt, connecting with soft skin.  
“Mmm.”  
“I want--” she hesitated, eyes skittering away from his gaze, fingers nervously tapping against him. “Well, umm--I want you to....”  
“Break the door handle so no one can come in here?”  
“No.”  
“Boring.”  
She whacked him on the shoulder, indignantly exclaiming, “I want you to touch me. Um, more.”  
Hak’s hands met her knees, trailing slowly up the sides, knocking against her skirt. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”  
He couldn’t believe that he was there, in that position, having kissed her, having felt her against him. But the last thing Hak would ever pass up was the chance to tease her, annoy her, frustrate her.  
If Hak had to put up with her incessant adorable behaviors, then she had to put up with his.  
“I’m serious,” she whined, soft, clammy fingers wrapping around his palms, gently guiding his hands up, past the respectful hem of her skirt, up to the soft material of her panties and holy fucking shit, he could have cum right then from the look in her eyes.  
She could pin him in place with the challenge that rested there, goading him on, daring him to take advantage of her sudden spat of desire. And she could play Hak with the rhythm in which Jaeha played his flute, the grace Shin-ha swung his sword, the fluidity of Yoon caring for the wounded. He could read the commands from her gaze and who was he to deny his obligation to fulfill her needs?  
His thumbs hooked in the waistband of her underwear and she laced her fingers in his hair, tugging desperately. He could feel his blood boiling, fingers shaking as she kissed along his jawline. It was sloppy and wet and she yanked on his hair again.  
“Ow, that hurts,” he teased, hiking her skirt up to her waist. “No need to be so boorish, princess.”  
But she just pulled again, harder (absolutely his intention). “Keep your voice down,” she warned, “There are still people here!”  
Hak grinned, pushing himself up, off the mattress, balancing his waif of a princess on his lap. She let out a surprised yelp, throwing her arms around his neck to steady herself. She was warm against him, nose bumping his collar bone, wild curls tickling his skin.   
“We still have 20 minutes before they come to bother us,” he told her, pushing her back until her shoulders hit the mattress and her eyes looked up at him curiously through the dark. “And you asked me to touch you.”  
“What?”  
And then he was kissing her again, pulling the neckline of her shirt out of his way as he kissed along her collar bones, down her chest, searching for the places that made her gasp. His heart swelled, threatening to break free from his chest as she held onto him.   
He kissed her silly; held her hands and wrapped her in his arms until there was a knock on the door and they heard the lock turning. She was off him in a second, laying on the mattress next to him, skirt smoothed, lounging with her feet crossed and arms propping up her head. When the door swung open, spilling light and music into the room, Yona looked up at Jaeha innocently, as if she was annoyed her story was being interrupted (though judging from the soft curse word she'd said as she'd disentangled herself from him, it was probably safe to assume she actually was annoyed at the interruption).  
Hak yawned, standing up, stretching out above the bed, scratching the back of his head. "That took long enough," he grumbled, pushing past Yona to leave. "I'm hungry, there had better still be good snacks left."  
…  
Yona barely heard a word her history professor said.  
A week later she could still feel the blush of her cheeks at the thought of Hak. Being in the dark, his hands on her body, lips brushing hers.   
She wanted more.  
It was like her body had a homing beacon for him, chest tightening anytime he was in the room and the once foreign sensation of her panties getting wet now occurred whenever he crossed her mind.  
So, about every twenty minutes.  
Less than that in this particular lecture with him sitting next to her, laptop and notebook delicately balanced on his lap and arm-desk. It was a tight fit in the tiny seats of the massive lecture hall, his knees shoved against his backpack in front of him, pen clipped to his shirt collar, laptop stacked on top of his notebook. She could see the muscles in his forearms dance as he typed, the most distracting sight for an aroused Yona. She was gonna have to find a way to get his notes without telling him that she'd seen videos in her post-makeout internet research that contained a number of positions she'd never known about and she wanted to try them out with him.  
It was infuriating how they never had a second alone here, the days dragging on agonizingly slowly as want coiled low in her stomach, dirty thoughts fluttering through her head, unescapable.   
She didn’t know how long she’d wanted him. She hadn’t known what the yearning sensation that filled her chest when he was close meant until recently.   
She didn’t want the attention, nor the drama that came with romantic and sexual attraction. While she got a modicum of privacy living in the United States (courtesy of the common man's complete lack of knowledge or care for the political coups of anywhere other than themselves), Yona still knew she was being watched. She spotted her political science professor browsing a BBC article about Soo-won’s “tragic” rise to the throne, featuring a photograph of the previous ruler’s family, and felt his gaze trail back to her for the next week.   
In summary, no, she did not feel as though pulling her known bodyguard into a partially obscured alcove in the school library to jump his bones would be a particularly wise course of action. Rather, a quick way to turn what little media knows of her continued existence and supports her homecoming and rulership against her.  
But oh boy was she going to go crazy if she didn’t feel his tongue on her clit soon.  
The sound of laptops closing and shuffling of students drew her eyes away from Hak’s forearms and back to her mostly empty notes page.  
Shit.  
At this pace, she was going to fail out of college before she’d see him naked.  
It was probably for the best. She could always just return to Kouka and marry Soo-won like Kye-Sook wanted in a wonderful display of light incest which would serve to titillate fangirls everywhere.   
Just keeping her options open.  
Hak’s hand pressed onto her shoulder, guiding her through the swarm of students trying to get out the door sent a wave coursing through her body that made her regret even joking with herself about that idea.  
Her old desire for Soo-won had been child’s play, the result of spending too much time cooped up inside with no access to the real world where things of that sort were taboo. Too much time told she was to look pretty and stand straight without being taught how to solve her people’s geographical or socioeconomic barriers to food, water, and medicine.  
She could feel each one of his fingers lightly pressed to her jacket, knowing if it weren’t for the backpack on her shoulders, his hand would be lower, delicately placed just high enough between her shoulder blades to be publically appropriate, but just low enough for her mind to swim.  
“My roommate is visiting his parents this weekend,” Hak said in a low voice when they were out of the building and walking through a thinner crowd.  
A shiver went down Yona’s spine. Her eyes darted around to see if anyone else took note of the words he had just said to her, that made her so horny her knees were going weak, but found no eyes gawking in their direction.  
“Yeah?” she choked back.  
He raised an eyebrow in her direction and Yona pretended it was not because he could feel the desire dripping off her like sweat. Very desperate sweat.  
“Yeah,” he said the word slowly, drawing out the air from her lungs and a blush to her cheeks. “I was thinking of charging Jaeha to let him rent out the space for one of his escapades. If he’s going to seduce everyone on campus, maybe I can at least profit off it.”  
And just like that it was gone.   
“Do you really want him doing that in your living space?” Yona bit back the overwhelming sense of disappointment.  
Hak shrugged, hair splayed against his forehead from the wind. “No, but he has his sights set on the SGA for his next escapade so he’s going to need a space large enough for all of them.”  
Yona laughed, tension easing in her stomach. “That’s gross. I don’t want to think about that.”  
“He even got his roommate a few weeks ago,” Hak mused, rolling his eyes.  
And yet Yona couldn’t even find five minutes alone with Hak in a private room to kiss him again. She really needed to learn his secret.  
Walking towards them, she could see a mop of white hair, Gija, fresh out of business analytics. Then, always fifty feet behind him, coming from anatomy and physiology in the next building over was Yoon and Shinha.   
She would never be alone with Hak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently working on chapter 3 which will be a lot more interesting than the second half of this chapter.


End file.
